I didn’t come back to this gym to prove a point. I came back because I had a twelve-month membership, it costed me six hundred bucks, and I wasn't about to let a breakup steal my gains. Yeah, maybe it happened to be his brother's gym but whatever. I wasn’t gonna stop training legs just because my ex’s brother owned the gym and there were chances of my ex being here. He’d get over it.

It was late, around 11 PM, and the place was still bumping with that sharp tang of sweat and rubber mats. “Eye of the Tiger” was blasting. Of course. Some things never change.

I kept my hoodie on as I walked in. Didn’t want to be recognized. Too late. The guy at the front desk, Julian, looked up, blinked, and smirked like he remembered exactly who I was and who I used to show up with. It's like the news had travelled to him.

Didn’t matter. I nodded, scanned in, and kept walking.

The main floor was mostly empty. Same racks, same bros, same girls with glute bands doing kickbacks, though they looked like they were wrapping up for the night. It was probably past closing, but I figured Drew would make an exception for me. I dropped my bag near the squat rack and started stretching, trying not to think about the last time I was here with Jason, spotting each other, laughing between sets, making out like idiots in the locker room.

I moved through warmups, hip thrusts first. Then calf raises. Bulgarian split squats. I could feel my ass already starting to ache, which was the point.

That’s when I heard it. A voice I hadn’t heard in months.

“What, you back to suck off my brother in the gym showers, or what?”

I turned my head, and there he was: Drew.

His arms were crossed, forearms thick and tan. He wore a sleeveless black tee stretched over broad pecs, tight black leggings slung low on his hips, and his backwards cap made him look every inch the hot asshole he’d always been. Thirty-one, built like a fighter, with this five o'clock shadow and a vein that ran down his bicep like he bench-pressed trucks for fun.

I laughed under my breath, pulling my earbud out. “Still a dick, huh?” I said.

He grinned and walked up, towel over one shoulder, a shaker bottle in hand. I forgot how tall he was until he got close. The dude towered. “I told you guys not to do that shit here,” he said, chuckling. “Locker room’s not your little gay playground, man.”

“Well, you’ll be happy to know we broke up.”

He blinked. “Wait. For real?”

“Yep.”

“Shit,” he said. “I thought you two were tight. Jason didn't even tell me.”

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” I muttered, grabbing a plate and sliding it on the barbell.

He raised his hands like I’d just told him to back off a wild animal. “Damn, alright. Chill. Say less.”

I laid back down for another round of thrusts, pretending he wasn’t standing there still watching me.

“Leg day, huh?” he said after a second.

“Every day,” I replied, breath catching as I pushed through a heavy rep.

“Yeah, I can see that,” he muttered. “Still got the glutes.”

I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t stop. If he wanted to watch, fine. I wasn’t gonna let some bro jokes ruin my day. I’d survived Jason. I could survive this. A few sets later, I moved to the rack to start barbell squats. Set up my stance. Loaded the bar. Got into position.

That’s when I felt it: slap. His hand. On my ass. “Let me spot you, bro,” he said like it was nothing. “You need to go deeper. Come on. Engage your glutes.”

“You just slapped my ass.”

“It’s encouragement,” he smirked. “Up, up, let’s go.”

I squatted. He stepped behind me, close.

“One more rep,” he said. “C’mon. Nice and low.”

I dropped again. His hands hovered near my hips. I could feel his breath on my neck, the heat of his chest behind me.

“You always this helpful with gym members?” I muttered.

“Nah,” he said. “Just the ones with fat asses.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Shut up, Drew. Just spot me properly.”

He moved closer. I swear I could feel the curve of his pecs brush my upper back, his thighs line up with mine. The bar felt heavier with him that close, like gravity had shifted just to mess with me.

But I didn’t pull away. Hell, I didn’t care. Drew was fucking hot. And straight as an arrow. It was probably just him being hands-on. Dude probably didn’t even think about it.

I squatted again, trying to focus on my form. He didn’t move back. His body stayed pressed to mine. I went again. He leaned in. His hands dropped to my waist, guiding me.

And that’s when I felt it. His Hard and Thick Cock. Pressed right up against my ass.

I paused. The bar stayed on my shoulders, my breath caught halfway out of my chest. I racked it quickly, the clang of metal echoing too loudly in my ears.

I turned around, heart thudding.

Drew took a half-step back, eyes flicking up like nothing had happened. But I’d felt it.

That wasn’t nothing.

I wiped my hands on my shorts and looked at him straight.

“Bro,” I said, low and even, “are you hard right now?”

Drew blinked like I’d just told him the ceiling was on fire. Then he snorted out a laugh and looked down at himself.

“What? Seriously?” He reached down and adjusted his crotch, cocky and unbothered, like he already knew but didn’t care. “Shit. I didn’t even notice.”

I gave him a look. “Uh-huh. Sure…”

“What, bro…” he said, smirking now. “It’s natural instinct.”

He slapped the side of his thigh and shrugged, like it was just science. “My cock’s basically trained to get hard whenever I’m wedged between fat asses. Muscle memory or some shit.”

I grabbed my towel, wiped the sweat off my neck, and chuckled. “You’re wild.”

He didn’t deny it. He flexed his jaw, chewing on the inside of his cheek like he was holding back another comment, then casually leaned against the squat rack.

Then, outta nowhere, he looked at me and asked, “So what’s the deal with you guys and ass, anyway? Like, genuinely. Just trying to understand.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘you guys.’”

Drew rolled his eyes like I was being dramatic. “Dude, relax. Not being a dick. Just curious.” He raised his hands like he was surrendering, palms open. “I love eating ass. Like… chicks moan ‘cause I’m fucking wild with it. I go all in. But with dudes… I don’t know how it works. Or like, why it works. Just genuinely curious, man. Really fucking curious.”

I sat back on the bench, elbows on my knees, letting the weight of the moment hang for a second. His tone wasn’t mocking, wasn’t even playful anymore. It was low-key fascinating. And yeah; his dick was still thick and obvious in those black compression leggings, curving to the side like it had no shame. That had to count for something.

“You’re telling me this while your dick is still half-chub in your joggers?”

He didn’t even blink. “It’s a question, bro.”

I smirked. “You really wanna know?”

He nodded slowly, still leaning back on the rack like he had all day.

“Well, for starters,” I said, “it’s not about gender. It’s about pressure. Rhythm. Sensitivity. There’s nerve endings back there that hit way different if you know what you’re doing.”

He was quiet. Just nodded again, slower this time. Abs flexing with each breath. He was actually listening.

Then: “So you let my brother eat your ass?”

I blinked. “Bro. That’s your brother you’re talking about.”

“And your fat ass,” he shot back, smirking. “C’mon. Answer it.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah. Sometimes. Not as much as I wanted, though. He was more into other stuff. I used to ask him a bunch of times, but he never really got into it.”

Drew scoffed like I’d just told him someone doesn’t like pizza. “What a pussy.”

My eyebrows shot up.

“I’m serious,” he said, standing up straight again. His eyes ran over my thighs, my glutes, like he was checking form. Or something else. “Asses are built to be eaten. Especially the fat, jiggly ones. Fuckkk.”

I looked up at him, breathing a little deeper now. That cock? Still there. Still full. Maybe even more now. Pressed tight against the front of his leggings like it wanted out. I tilted my chin toward his crotch. “Bro…”

He followed my eyes, then scratched his abs just above his waistband, acting casual as hell. “I mean,” he said, voice dropping half a step, “I’ve always kinda wanted to just tongue-fuck the hell outta someone… especially the fat, jiggly ones.”

I raised a brow, lips twitching. “Yeah, I get it, Drew. You like big butts. And yeah...the jiggly ones.”

We both cracked up, chesty, low laughter that made my abs flex. I leaned back again, letting my eyes drop, intentionally this time.

That bulge? Not hiding shit. He wasn’t even pretending anymore. Full outline. Thick. Long. And the guy was just standing there like it didn’t matter. Hell, he looked proud of it.

“Bro,” I said again, grinning wider, “you are rock hard right now. Lol.”

Drew laughed again, this time almost breathless, his shoulders rising like he couldn’t keep it in. “Fuck. Look at my dedication, man. Just thinking about eating ass got me like this, imagine what’ll happen when I actually do.”

He smirked down at me, and yeah, it was aimed directly at me now.

The air between us felt tight. Electric. My heart was beating like I’d done a sprint, but I didn’t move right away. Just held his gaze. Then I stood up, slow and steady, my quads still sore from the last set. Walked toward him, close enough to smell the clean sweat on his neck and shoulders. Close enough that if either of us leaned just an inch, we’d be touching.

He didn’t move.

I looked up at him. My voice was lower now, a little rough around the edges. “You know…” I said, pausing just long enough, “I wouldn’t be mad if you wanted to try eating mine.”